Weekly Wednesday Writing Prompt - Grandmother's Own

“Where do you think you are going ?” Jet whispered in Sara’s ear as she tried to grab his baseball top lying on the side of the bed. 

“Jet!” she squealed already wiggling violently from his tickling fingers. He always knew her weakness. If it was not a carton on Haagen Dazs Ice Cream and an old movie to keep her in his bed the entire night, he knew his tormenting fingers would attain the same goal.

“Stop,” Sara begged rolling away and managing to put some space between them. She looked at Jet then. The tips of his hair were aflame against the brightly illuminated bedroom window.  His face, shadowed from the yellow glow creeping into the room, was slightly frowned causing ridges to form on his high forehead and a fine line to form on his tempting lips. The morning sun was not only sealing its way into their little haven, it was also beckoning her back to reality. 

“I have to go…” she whispered reluctantly and he rubbed his hand roughly through his curly untamed hair. Sara always loved how uncontrollable his hair was, almost as if it personified its owner. Jet was someone she never thought she would be with, far more falling in love with. 

 “I do not want you to go.”

Jet told Sara this every time they had to part, and every time he said it, something untold was left hanging between them. 

“How do I tell him my life was not my own… how do I make him understand that from the hours on 9am to 5pm I was not in control of my life.”  

“Jet … I cannot stay,” Sara stated firmly but her heart and soul disagreed. 

“She does not know where you are… You are safe here,” he whispered knowing exactly why Sara’s lips trembled when she made that last statement. 

“I can never hide from Grandmother … she will always find me,” Sara more warned knowing what would become of her if she disobeyed.

Wanting to avoid another empty argument, Sara hurriedly dressed and gave Jet a heated kiss before running out the house. Sara knew the hour was approaching and she had to be home before Grandmother missed her. 

Looming in the horizon stood the stately Victorian mansion with its copper and gold walls glimmering in the morning sun. Even the ominously thick, tinted windows reflected the untouched landscape around it. While Sara took the pathway to the house she spotted Ronald sitting on the bench outside. His dark shades too just reflected the encroaching building. As a child it was her sacred haven, but now it was her prison. 

“Good Morning Ronald,” Sara stated casually focusing on Timothy and Brooke who were heading towards them.  

“She knows you were out last night.”

The smug look on his face did not leave Sara wondering who had revealed her whereabouts. And to confirm this, when she briskly walked away, his cold menacing chuckle followed her up the path.